It has been three months since we flopped
around exclusivity– the day before
Thanksgiving, rain beating against
windshield in front of Station, Liberty
Ave’s latest restaurant to close. I have a good sense
of time and its aching, beautiful slowness. How we wait
so long for everything in the world to happen
and in one moment you spend the rest of your days
reaching back for it. So I will talk to you about this
again tonight. I have already planned what to say
(and the words dissipate, leaving only the atmospheric
haze of what we wish to be love) against all your possible
responses. Tonight that fog will clear or it will not,
but it will leave behind what can be felt in the air, undefined.